Page 76 of Treasured

I balled my fists at my sides. “You would do well to listen to my commands.” My wings burst out from my back, and my voice chilled. “Find Nicolas, and you will find the rest.”

Without waiting for a response, I swept out of the conference room. The generals couldn’t help me. Two months was an inexcusable amount of time for a revolution to continue.

I needed something new. Something different. Something that would make me the most powerful one of them all.

I gasped. That was it.

Struck by inspiration, I ran in a blur through my castle.

Down, down, down I went until the silver doors of Ravenwood Dungeon were in my sight. Two guards stood in front, leaning casually against the wall, chatting.

Coming to a stop, I smoothed out my gown and cleared my throat. The guards turned to me with wide eyes, their faces suddenly devoid of all color.

“Q-q-queen Marguerite!” the taller one exclaimed. He straightened his shoulders and had the decency to look sheepish about being caught slacking. “How can we help you?”

I would probably kill them for their ineptitude if I weren’t so intent on seeing my plan to fruition. I glared at the guards, making sure they saw the displeasure written across my face. “The inmate from Ithenmyr. Does she still live?”

One never knew with prisoners. They had a nasty habit of dying when it was least convenient for me.

The shorter guard swallowed. “Yes, My Queen.”

“Good.” I raised a brow. “Let me pass.”

Keys jingled, and then, the doors opened. Instantly, the scent of death and decay washed over me. Ravenwood Dungeon was home to my land’s darkest, most depraved criminals. I’d inherited most of these prisoners, long-lived as they were, from my predecessor.

A shiver ran down my arms, but I refused to acknowledge it as I entered the tight stone hallways.

Click, click, click.

My footsteps echoed through the rounded halls as I passed cell after cell. Dirty, bony hands stuck out of doors, wails were a discordant symphony growing louder by the second, and prisoners cried out for even a moment of my time.

They knew me, feared me, worshiped me.

Even they understood who I was.

A lesson Nicolas apparently had not learned.

The reminder of his betrayal sent blood boiling through me, and I trembled. Curse the gods for these all-too-human emotions! I was four centuries old, for Ithiar’s sake. I should have had these under control long ago. But no. I still needed sleep and blood.

At this moment, I was far too mortal for my liking.

Down I went into the bowels of Ravenwood Dungeon until light was but a distant memory.

There, deep below the earth, was the level I sought. A solitary guard stood in front of the silver door, marking the entrance to the prohiberis-lined section of the dungeon.

He nodded when he saw me. “Queen Marguerite.” Respect filled his voice. Good.

I met his gaze. “I’m here to see her.”

“Of course.” The guard unlocked the door, pulling it open and bowing as I went past him.

The magic-stealing stones drew the power out of my veins when I stepped into the hallway. My shadows were silenced, and I inhaled sharply.

“I hate the prohiberis,” the guard said.

I didn’t answer him, but I felt the same way. I disliked being without my power, but I wouldn’t be here long.

The prisoners in this part of the dungeon were in far worse shape than the others. Many were close to Fading, and all of them feared me. The inmates produced a ballad of pain and torment. Their wordless groans were the sweetest melody, and the agonizing moans were the perfect harmony in every way.

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